


(No) Sanctuary

by ProphecyGirl



Series: Clexa Week 2020 [1]
Category: Lexark - Fandom, The 100 (TV), The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV), clexa - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Challenge Response, Clexa, Clexa Week 2020, Clexa Week day 2, F/F, I don't know, Lexark but make it Clexa, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Survival, Walkers (Walking Dead), Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProphecyGirl/pseuds/ProphecyGirl
Summary: The ground is a lot different than anyone on the Ark could have expected. After all this time, something has survived—but it’s not quite human..Written for Clexa Week 2k20, Day 2: Survival
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Series: Clexa Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656118
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49
Collections: Clexaweek2020





	(No) Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raynala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynala/gifts).



> Dedicated to my biffle, cTine, in the hopes that Dog remains okay or unaddressed forever. <3

There's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet  
No matter where you live  
There'll all ways be a few things, maybe several things  
That you're gonna find really difficult to forgive  
There's gonna come a day when you'll feel better  
You'll rise up free and easy on that day  
And float from branch to branch lighter than the air  
Just when that day is coming, who can say? Who can say?  
Our mother has been absent ever since we founded Rome  
But there's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home

\- The Mountain Goats, “Up the Wolves”

Clarke had never run so fast in her entire life.

Not even when Wells had—in a blessedly rare fit of male pride—guaranteed he could outrun her and offered to do her cafeteria rotation at school for a week if he couldn’t. Back then, in that life, Clarke was still curved with baby fat and soft from free time spent curled with a sketchpad or a book under an artificial sunlamp somewhere on the Ark. Wells had foolishly underestimated how much Clarke hated her part-time job. There had been a massive grin on her face when she’d had enough time to pause at the agreed-upon finish line, turn to face him, and laugh as he skidded across the finish line long after her with a look of dismay.

_Never underestimate Clarke Griffin_ , she’d said; smirking as she handed him her swipe card.

Now only the barest hint of curves remained; her body had slimmed down due to the low ability of food and she’d built up muscles in place of her baby fat. She’d had to do a lot of running since she’d made her way off the drop-ship and her boots had first pressed into the softened earth.

She was a lot faster now; it was the only reason she was still alive in the insane world they’d come home to. None of them had expected the planet to be inhabited; not by survivors, and certainly not the.. _things_ that were now following her _en masse_.

They were slow and stupid, these monsters. The Grounders, who had thus far been just as bent on murder, but unfortunately fast, were a less preferable enemy as far as Clarke was concerned—usually, anyway. This time, however, things outside the walls they’d constructed around the dropship’s location had gone very badly; in addition to winding up separated from the others, Clarke had also managed to draw a group of them large enough that she was probably going to die.

Her chest was on fire as the sharp branches and thorns of the forest ripped at her skin. Her shoes skidded on the mud as she approached a sudden drop off far too rapidly. Clarke let out a surprised yelp as her ancient boots failed to grip in the mud slick that had formed with the last rains, and she tumbled down the slanted, rocky hillside, unable to recover her footing in the sodden earth and managing only to slice herself open on several sharp points as she rolled into the steep and rocky ravine.

The group had heard her cries; as Clarke lay moaning in the mud, covered in fresh bruises and cuts, their rasps and growls growing louder as she struggled to pull herself up once more. She’d lost her knife when she fell, and there was a pain in her shoulder that was near blinding in its intensity. She shimmied towards the opposite side of the gulley, her eyes quickly scanning the patches of water dotted with rocks and fallen trees, hoping for a telltale glint of metal.

No such luck.

She gave up as the first of the monsters tumbled off the edge of the overlook not unlike Clarke herself had just done. They were too close, so she forgot the knife. She grunted as she struggled to find hand and footholds that weren’t too slick with mud to pull herself up on, and slowly made her way up the side of the ravine.

Clarke clawed her way free, but she’d wrenched her ankle in the fall, and the other side of the ravine was not just muddy and uneven—it was confirmed grounder territory. She felt a little delirious with the realization that there was nowhere safe for her to go, and found herself making up new lyrics to a song her dad used to listen to.

“Shufflers to the left of me, grounders to the right, here I am..” she whisper-sang under her breath, creeping through a thick copse of trees slowly and trying to make as little noise as possible. “Stuck in the middle and screwed..”

In the distance, Clarke heard a loud cry that sent a shudder down her spine. It was a girl’s voice; it could be Octavia, or Raven. Despite being out of breath, and with the shufflers gaining on her the longer she led them through the darkening woods, Clarke took off towards the sound without a second thought.

♾

The girl had gone over a steep ledge just as Clarke herself had, only she hadn’t been as lucky and had landed much harder. She cradled her shoulder as they crouched behind the ruins of some old building, their chests heaving as they tried to control their breathing.

Clarke held her own hand over her mouth to silent her panicked panting, a single tear escaping her eye as the shufflers made their way by. The stench was unimaginable; their rotted bodies were falling apart and dripping to the ground in streams of fluid and chunks of flesh as they passed by, leaving streaks of blood and viscera coating the ground and surrounding trees. The rasping and snarling was impossibly loud as it echoed off the sheet metal wall they were pressed back against.

The girl beside her had her lips pressed tightly together, creating a thin line separating the hard set to her jaw and the poorly hidden fear that lingered behind the flashing gemstone green of her eyes. She looked concerned as she inclined her head just slightly at Clarke, warning her silently not to let her emotions get the best of her.

Clarke swallowed hard, but nodded ever so slightly to reassure the grounder that she would not break and compromise their situation. Hopefully that would be enough to prevent the girl from driving a knife into her head the minute the opportunity presented itself.

Clarke closed her eyes briefly, trying to center herself as the living corpses moved steadily past. The noises they made were like nails on a chalkboard; it sent a shock of icy fear up Clarke’s spine as they staggered mindlessly by. The thick, rotten fruit scent the creatures gave off stung in her nose and eyes, and she struggled not to gag as one in uncomfortably close proximity dropped several organs and a wide swatch of abdominal skin to the ground near her foot. The grounder watched nervously, her long, thin fingers fiddling with the dagger at her thigh, and Clarke tried to look reassuring. She imagined the girl would have little trouble prioritizing if she thought Clarke was going to vomit and alert the herd to their location.

Clarke’s eyes fell behind her, to some sort of a ventilation panel, and the grounder’s eyes followed hers right to it before meeting her gaze. She gave a short, single nod and slowly lowered herself to the ground.

As Clarke belly-crawled behind the grounder as silently as possible, she noted with respect that the girl was hardly wincing, despite the severe amount of pain she must have had from her injury. She muffled a deep grunt when she was forced to stretch her arms out to fit through the vent, and they both paused and closed their eyes. If the shufflers had heard it, they were _absolutely_ dead.Clarke was still sticking out of the claustrophobically small tunnel from ass to toe as she struggled to angle her hips through a portion where one side of the vent had been dented in from some outside force.

The girl—who had far narrower hips than Clarke did—was halfway out the other end when Clarke felt a hand around her foot and let out a panicked gasp. She writhed frantically as the shuffler’s overgrown claws dug into the flesh of her ankle and its teeth sank into the sole of her boot. It snarled as it gnawed at the rubber, and Clarke’s eyes went wide with fear.

The girl shimmied the rest of the way out of the ventilation shaft, and a jolt of icy terror stabbed through Clarke when she disappeared from sight. She was going to die, and she found herself vaguely annoyed that she would be taken out in such an embarrassing way. Eaten foot-first, of all things.

Clarke _really_ hated the ground.

Suddenly, green eyes appeared at the end of the tunnel, worried but determined as she threw a loop of rope into the shaft.

“Put it on!” She instructed, and Clarke—too panicked to do anything but listen—obediently grabbed the makeshift lasso and shimmied into the open loop.

“Got it,” Clarke replied after a second, trying desperately but uselessly to kick her foot loose from the creature still chewing on it. The girl backed up and using both of her arms in a way that had to have hurt like a son of a bitch, she pulled the rope taut and gave it a hard yank.

Clarke groaned as her hands scrambled for purchase in the duct, trying to time the thrusts and wiggles of her body with the girls’ straining pulls on the rope.With one restrained and drawn-out grunt of pain, the girl gave an incredibly hard yank, and Clarke’s hips popped through the deformed length of vent. Her movement no longer as restricted, she gave the shuffler a hard kick in the face with her other foot before she scrambled the remaining length of duct.

Clarke slid face first into the open air of the room and rolled out of the way. The girl plunged her dagger into the skull of the shuffler as it approached the end of the vent, and then did the same to the two that had crammed in behind it as well. Their rotted bodies made a fairly effective dam against further intrusions, and seemingly satisfied with it for the moment, the girl turned to face Clarke once more.

Panting on the floor, Clarke rubbed her left hip, which was aching something awful, and rolled onto her back to look up at the end of the dagger. Her blue eyes widened, but the girl’s face was serious, though still cringing in the agonizing aftermath of what she’d forced her injured arm to do.

“Were you bitten?” Her tone was gruff, and her blade glinted in the brightening moonlight that leaked in through the partially rotted roof. Clarke shook her head quickly and lifted her leg up so she could inspect her shoe in lieu of a verbal response as she panted, trying to catch her breath.

“No,” she finally hissed out, and the girl seemed to relax just slightly as Clarke finally freed herself from the entanglement of the rope and began to take in their surroundings as she tore a strip of cloth from the edge of her own shirt.

The girl was looking at her suspiciously, though, and Clarke paused uncomfortably before holding her hand out.

“Uh, I’m Clarke, by the way. Clarke Griffin. Thank you for helping me.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the brunette reached out and gripped Clarke’s forearm, giving it a light squeeze. “Lexa. You’re welcome.”

She awkwardly shook Lexa’s forearm, trying to ignore the glitter in her bright green eyes that sent a tingle running down Clarke’s spine. She studied Clarke briefly before releasing her arm.

“I have never seen that many _sondaunas_ in one place,” the girl said quietly, her face scrunching up momentarily as Clarke carefully tied the length of fabric around her arm in a reasonable facsimile of a sling.

“You call them _sondaunas_?” Clarke asked conversationally, careful not to catch the long, soft brunette strands of her hair as she reinforced the makeshift sling with another knot.

“Yes. Why, what do your people call them?”

“Shufflers,” Clarke replied, stepping back. “Why were they moving like that? All in the same direction, like they discussed it beforehand or something. Oh, _god_ ,” she continued, horrified. “Can they make plans?”

Lexa shook her head. “No, of course not. They just group up like that sometimes. Something will get the attention of one or two of them, and they’ll follow the sound, or the light of a fire, the movement of an animal. Others follow, and they become.. unmanageable, if the herd grows too large.”

“Herd,” Clarke murmured, sitting on a relatively even stump and looking up at the girl. “That’s a good word for it.”

The girl was pacing uncomfortably. She was clearly unused to needing help and unhappy about receiving it from a sky person, of all people. But there was something in the way she carried herself that seemed.. off. Different from the few other grounders Clarke had interacted with. Not unlike Anya, actually; with an air of leadership and strength.

They were in some sort of a makeshift house, in a small room constructed of sheet metal. There was an impressively-sized still that dominated the tight quarters, and then a half-rotted wooden door that opened into the ramshackle cabin.

“I read about places like this,” Clarke murmured, taking it in. “People made alcohol illegally in them.”

“You saved me,” Lexa finally noted, ignoring the history lesson and sliding her dagger back into the holster strapped to her thigh. “Why?”

Clarke shrugged a little. “You saved me.”

“I threw you a rope. You took on two _sondaunas_ by yourself, and risked your life to save me.”

“Hope that you’d have done the same for me, even if I’d needed more than a rope, I guess.” The look on Lexa’s face, however, suggested that she would not, in fact, have done the same thing. Clarke tried not to let it bother her, and continued. “We never wanted a war with your people, Lexa. I’m outside our gates, trying to stay alive long enough to find someone willing to bring me to your Commander. So I can tell her that we don’t want a war, that we’re just trying to survive. All we want is peace.”

Lexa smirked a bit at that. “You would risk your life just to beg the Commander to spare it, rather than use the opportunity of a meeting to assassinate her?”

Clarke looked horrified. “ _Assassinate_ her? Are you crazy? That’s not the way to end a war.”

Lexa shrugged, meandering the perimeter of the small shack and pausing to scratch her nails at a dark stain on the wall where it seemed flames had once licked briefly. “For my people, it is. If you take out a leader, you inspire disorganization and chaos in their people, and they are easier to conquer.”

Clarke made a disgusted face, nudging a rusted pipe with the toe of her boot. “I don’t know how it works for your people, Lexa, but mine don’t want to conquer anyone. We just want to live in peace, and be left alone.”

Lexa glanced at her, her interest mildly sparked. Clarke was focused on a faded painting on the wall, half rotted with water damage, and did not seem concerned about Lexa’s presence in the least, though her back was turned. Lexa huffed quietly, taken aback by the blatant honesty behind what the quiet, strangely trusting girl had said.

“You don’t want to take our resources for yourselves? Our villages, our weapons? You want me to believe that?”

Clarke scoffed, crossing her arms on her chest as she turned to face Lexa once more. “We don’t need your stuff, we have our own. We just want your people to stop killing ours, and let us search for the rest of our people. They’re out there somewhere, scared and alone. They might not even know how to take out the _sondaunas_. We can help them, save them. But only if your Commander is willing to listen to reason.”

“The Commander knows that one of your people slaughtered 18 of our people. Children, elders. How would you answer that, Clarke? Your leader sent an assassin into one of our villages. What would you tell the Commander about that?”

Clarke worked her jaw emotionally, the guilt and regret shining brightly behind red-rimmed eyes. “He’s not an assassin. He’s just a.. a seventeen year old boy who’s really, really broken.”

“Broken.” Lexa didn’t seem impressed by her response. “You would ask me to feel pity for a monster. That does not bode well for your people.”

Clarke grunted a little, shaking her head quickly as her eyes welled up. “It’s my fault. He did it for me, he thought I was dead and that they’d done it. They had my.. my father’s watch—“ She lifted her arm, drawing some of her sleeve across her eyes to soak up her tears and show Lexa her wrist. “And he knew I would never have taken it off myself. That I would rather die than lose this watch.”

Lexa watched her with interest, her eyes flicking briefly to the watch, which clearly no longer worked. “You think he shouldn’t be punished for his actions, then.”

“I think we shouldn’t punish people for being afraid and making mistakes. I wouldn’t ask your Commander for the lives of those who’ve killed my people,” Clarke murmured, swallowing her emotions back as she scanned their surroundings uncomfortably.

Lexa studied her closely, measuring her up as she considered her options and remembered once more how quickly Clarke had put her body between an injured Lexa and the two _sondaunas_ that would have killed her only moments later.

Finally, after several uncomfortable minutes, she responded, “The Commander is a reasonable person. I know her well, and I think she would find what you have to say intriguing. She has long sought peace among her own people; an alternative to our.. current way. Blood must have blood. _Jus drein, jus daun_.”

Clarke looked at the Grounder unsurely, her arms loosening from where they lay folded on her chest. “You know the Commander? You can.. get a message to her, or, do you think—would you take me to her?”

“Hmm,” Lexa hummed, fingering a set of moldy blinds that hung tattered and stained with age. “Yes. I can get you an audience with the Commander, Clarke.”

Clarke’s face broke into a smile as waves of relief washed across it. Her eyes seemed to glow a brighter blue as she breathed reverently, “Thank you.”

“ _Mochof_ ,” Lexa corrected her. “If you intend to form an alliance with my people, you’ll need to learn our language. Right?”

“Right,” Clarke returned with a firm nod. Her lips framed around her tongue as she carefully repeated, “ _Mochof_ , Lexa. Thank you.”

“You may want to hold onto your gratitude for the time being, Clarke,” Lexa responded reluctantly, gazing past the blinds she’d been inspecting and right at a group of the dead that had begun to splinter off from the herd. “It does not look like we are going to be leaving this hovel anytime soon. It will be difficult to negotiate a peace treaty if we both die here.”

Clarke leaned over her shoulder without hesitation, and a sharp inhale escaped Lexa at her sudden proximity. Though muddied and drenched in sweat, Clarke smelled surprisingly sweet, and it was enough to briefly distract Lexa from the approaching _sondaunas_ for a moment.

“We’re not going to die here,” Clarke decided firmly, a strange look on her face as her eyes met Lexa’s. Her cheeks flushed, as though she’d been thinking similar thoughts as Lexa had, and Lexa cleared her throat quickly, stepping back.

“Get ready, then, because they’re heading right towards us,” Lexa grunted, pulling a sword from her back and rocking instinctively into a fighting stance as the _sondaunas_ began clawing at the wooden wall of the cabin.

Clarke’s face brightened quickly. “Maybe we let them in!” She announced with excitement, grabbing the partially rusted pipe she’d nudged away earlier. Lexa watched her with confusion as Clarke shoved her towards the door that led to the metal-encased room.

“Clarke?” She asked unsurely, but continued moving in the direction Clarke had started her in as she did.

“Go!” Clarke cried back in response, kicking through the last bits of the rotted front door that remained. The _sondaunas_ outside howled in hunger as Clarke drummed the pipe against the doorframe and screamed out the door at the approaching group. “Come on, you creepy dead fuckers, come and get a snack!”

Lexa watched with mild horror for a moment before she realized what Clarke was doing. Her eyes went wide, and she shot through the doorway towards the still just as Clarke appeared behind her, hot on her heels. Together, they slammed the door to the distiller room, and Clarke slid the pipe into notches that were intended for a two-by-four style deadbolt.

Panting, and with adrenaline throbbing throughout her body, Clarke shared a smile with a mildly shaken Lexa as they slid to the ground, their backs against the door. On the other side, the dead pounded against it, and they shared another brief look before they rose in tandem. Clarke took the lead, holding one finger up to pause Lexa, who was adjusting her sling. Clarke opened the outside door of the metal room slowly, holding her breath and hoping it wouldn’t creak or even be visible in the rapidly fading daylight.

After a moment of glancing outside, Clarke motioned for Lexa to follow and began to creep, quietly and low to the ground, out the other door and in the opposite direction of the distracted herd.

They moved quietly through the woods, trying to keep their breathing measured and footing sure. Slowly, the sounds of the herds rasping and hungry growls faded, and completely disappeared by the time the girls reached the edge of a small creek, just where it met with a narrow waterfall.

They sat quietly under the sound-muffling gurgles of the waterfall while Clarke retied the sling into place, and then both of them began to scrub some of the blood, mud, and viscera from their sun kissed skin. It was strangely relaxing to take a moment of peace in the midst of the _sondaunas_ ’ chaotic destruction here in this beautiful place that camouflaged them, sight, scent, and sound, from the yearning herd.

♾

They’d slept—somewhat reluctantly—pressed tightly against one another on the forest floor, rather than risk a fire that could draw the herd back towards them once more. Clarke awoke alone and shivering, however, and had a brief moment of panic as she scanned her surroundings quickly in search of Lexa.

Lexa, who was resting back against a fallen log on the ground, quickly but softly called out, “You’re safe.”

Clarke looked at her in relief, her shoulders quickly relaxing when she realized Lexa hadn’t left.

“How’s your arm?” Clarke asked gently, sitting up and pushing her hair back out of her exhausted, muddy face.

“Hurts,” Lexa answered simply, shrugging with her uninjured side.

“We need to get help taking care of that herd,” Clarke muttered, rubbing her face tiredly. “But we’re gonna need a lot more people than I have. How far is your Commander? Can we get there before sunset?”

Lexa’s face took on a strange, affected look then, and she gazed at Clarke guiltily.

“I was not.. entirely honest with you about that, Clarke.”

Clarke looked at her, but it was with disappointment, rather than the rage Lexa had anticipated. She just shook her head, her voice sad. “You lied about knowing the Commander, didn’t you? You can’t get me a meeting with her.”

“Not.. exactly,” Lexa hesitated, shrugging off the uncomfortable self-questioning her brain was subjecting her to at the moment; asking why she felt she owed this girl anything, much less guilt over a harmless sin of omission.

“You have.. already had a meeting with her,” Lexa finally admitted softly. She watched as Clarke’s face shifted from disappointment to confusion, to disbelief, and then finally to hurt.

“You’re the Commander?” Lexa gave her a short, single nod. “ _You’re_ the Commander, and you got stuck in a ravine by yourself in the middle of a herd?”

Lexa paused; she hadn’t expected that particular response. Clarke’s voice was vaguely amused, and Lexa couldn’t help the offense that began to stir in her chest.

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke,” Lexa sniffed distastefully, crossing her arms; but Clarke just laughed softly.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just—I don’t think I could have a better chance for my people to survive than having saved the live of the Commander,” Clarke elaborated. Lexa merely grunted, trying to hide the blush that spread across her cheeks. She was loathe to admit it, but Clarke’s teasing had not been unwanted or even unwelcome. Rather, it had made her feel almost.. special, in some way.

It took her Lexa another moment to realize it was because the last time someone had been brave enough to tease her, it had been Costia.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke pressed, her brow folding in concern that she’d truly upset the Commander.

Lexa shook it off. “No, I—it’s alright, Clarke. What you said merely reminded me of.. of someone,” she finished lamely. Clarke nodded in understanding, her hand unconsciously touching Lexa’s arm. “Someone you lost?”

Lexa nodded. “I’m sorry,” Clarke offered honestly, her hand gently squeezing Lexa’s bicep and drawing a soft gulp from the Commander’s lips.

“So uh, you see, we are somewhat on our own out here. At least, until we can return to TonDC, where I can begin to marshal my forces against the herd.”

Clarke nodded, but her eyes were scanning their surroundings, and she had begun to slowly walk towards what looked like a deliberate clearing a few dozen yards away. “I know we need a lot more people to deal with the herd, I just wish there were something we could—“

“Something we could—?” Lexa parroted with a frown, following Clarke unsurely through the thinning edge of the forest. There was a low, stone structure in the opening area, that was wrapped securely in a thick overgrowth of vines and weeds. A thick metallic sign lay half-buried in the dusty ground, and Clarke kicked at it a few times before leaning over to pull it free.

The sign said “ _Mount Weather_ ” and showed various paths through the stretching forest’s larger game trails, as well as ones that appeared to utilize old roads and railways through the urban ruins that interrupted the green-laden landscape. Below that, in neat, capitalized lettering, it said something that sent a small jolt of hope through Clarke’s heart as she read it aloud.

“Sanctuary for all, community for all. Those who arrive, survive.” She looked at Lexa with excitement in her eyes. “They could _help_ us.”

Lexa looked at the sign as well, but her expression was dubious and her arms were crossed as she shook her head.

“I don’t like it, Clarke. It sounds like a trap. There is no sanctuary left in this world.”

Clarke wavered a little, her voice softening as she turned her gaze to Lexa instead. “They could have _people_ , Lexa—maybe not enough to take out the herd, but enough to get us safely back to your army, and mine, so we can do it. You can’t believe what you said, that there’s no sanctuary left. You have to have hope.”

“There is none of that here either,” Lexa murmured quietly, but her face was stormy and her jaw set stubbornly. “You can’t allow things to rest on hope if you want to survive, Clarke.”

Clarke studied the gemstone green of her eyes, the tightness of her jaw and forehead as she struggled internally. She wanted to believe it; that much was very clear, and so Clarke gave her a gentle push.

“Maybe life should be about more than just surviving. Don’t we deserve better than that?”

Lexa looked at her with a strange look then. Her entire face had suddenly softened, and her eyes were filled with intensity, but with the slightest hint of awe reflecting behind her slightly dilated pupils. She studied Clarke as though she were new in some way—a curiosity that had inspired a craving within Lexa so deep and primal that she had grown quite suddenly dizzy at its impact with her brain.

“Maybe we do,” she whispered. And with a reverence that even she could not have seen coming, she cupped Clarke’s muddy, bloodstained jaw and guided her close, into a kiss that very probably would have been the death of Lexa if she had not set the explosive feeling free.

Clarke murmured in surprise, a soft rumble in the back of her throat escaping across Lexa’s tongue only a moment before Clarke’s tongue replaced it, tracing the same path between her lips and past Lexa’s. Recovering quickly, Clarke kissed her in earnest, one hand sliding around the back of her neck while the other fluttered in the air briefly before settling on Lexa’s hip and pulling her closer.

They kissed lazily for several long, lingering minutes, and when they parted for a breath, their foreheads and tips of their noses remained lightly touching. Lexa breathed out softly and opened her eyes, her stomach and chest fluttering when she found Clarke’s brilliant blues already looking back at her.

Lexa knew in that moment, without a doubt, that she would happily turn her entire world upside down and inside out for even a chance of kissing Clarke once more. She’d never felt so sure of anything in her life as she was that this golden-haired goddess would be her undoing. Years of building up the walls around her heart again brick by brick after shed lost Costia, and the _skayon_ had undone it all in a day.

Oh, yes. Lexa would trek to the looming, legendary Mountain for Clarke’s benefit. She would forge a likely fragile peace with the sky people for Clarke. She would throw her body between Clarke and two _sondaunas_ , without a doubt.And maybe—just maybe—Lexa would even try her hand at having hope; just because the girl from the sky had asked her to.

Yes, Lexa was done for, and she knew it. So when Clarke held her hand out for her, a nervously optimistic smile played across Lexa’s lips as she took it, linking their fingers together as they started towards the mountain in hopes of help; in hopes of hope.

**Author's Note:**

> ** I made up the word _sondauna_. In Trigedasleng, _stedaun_ is ‘the dead’ (stay + down) and _sonraun_ is ‘life’ (sun + around), so _sondauna_ is literally ‘sundowner’ or 'living dead' — a being more commonly known as a walker, or a zombie. ;) 
> 
> ** The song Clarke makes up new lyrics to is, “Stuck In The Middle With You”, by Stealers Wheel. It's a really good song, okay? >_<


End file.
